


Walk this maze with me?

by Squeakerblue



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Challenge fic, First Time, Flash Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, No beta we die like stregobor should have, corn maze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakerblue/pseuds/Squeakerblue
Summary: Harvest festivals mean fun, feasting, dancing, and joy.“I heard they have a corn maze here. I’ve seen some hedge mazes but the kids say it's a fun walk.” Jaskier shifted his weight and his scent shifted with it. “Would you like to go in?”Geralt hesitated, he knew the maze’s story here, it was one of the ways that those wishing to court would find out if the other was interested. He’d traveled with the bard for half a decade now, with no sign the bard wanted him as much as he wanted Jaskier. He took a deep breath and got a nose full of the smell of hope and longing, on top of the bard’s usual scent of summer and buttercups.Challenge entry Fluff
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 135
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #008





	Walk this maze with me?

**Author's Note:**

> Flash fic for The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge. 008. 
> 
> None of these characters are mine, I'm just playing with them.

It was harvest time in the Pontar Valley, and Runsford was no exception to the harvest festivals that were thrown all over the Continent this time of year.It was a surprisingly large festival for a mid sized down, but then, Runsford was a bustling trade stop on the river where Temeria, Aedirn and Kaedwen met, and not far from the Redanian border. 

Despite the early hour, dawn was barely an hour behind them, music was playing and children laughing all around, and Jaskier, the bard of the famous White Wolf, and Geralt, the White Wolf himself, were welcomed with waves and smiles that only dimmed slightly at the sight of the Witcher’s eyes. Runsford was a common place for the Wolf School Witchers to stop to get supplies for the brutal winters, which is exactly what they were there to do. 

Jaskier, at long last, had finally gotten Geralt to allow him to go to Kaer Morhen for the winter. He’d been saving his coin for warm clothes and Geralt rolled his eyes as the bard darted to and fro, looking at all of the wares. A good hunt a few weeks ago, and not being skimped on pay for once, meant their purses were full. 

“Ho, Master Geralt!” A voice called and Geralt recognized the local blacksmith’s voice and headed towards the man. Horren was middle-aged now, but Geralt had known him since he was an apprentice. “Need your blades sharpened before you head north?” The smith gave him a withering look. “Last harvest you brought them up and they looked like someone had used them to cut up rocks.”

Geralt coughed lightly, “Technically Golems are made of rock, but yes, they could do with some work.”

He handed over the silver sword first, he’d seen no contracts on the notice board and the people here were particularly good at informing the passing Witchers if they were needed. The smith raised a brow at the sharp, but dented and chipped edges of the sword. He raised an eyebrow at Geralt who shrugged back.

“How bad is the other?” Horren asked flatly. Geralt handed it over and the smith made a horrified noise. “Golems would have been better!” He peered at it and flicked his eyes at the house beside him. “This looks like you let some two bit Redanian tinker at it, what were you thinking?!”

There was a mildly outraged shriek from inside the house and the smith ducked a shoe that came flying out the window as his wife, a woman named Metha, who was herself a Redanian and a cobbler, scowled at him from the opening. “You mind your manners, Horren!” A pause. “Now give me that shoe back, I need to finish them by tonight for Letta.” 

Geralt had caught the shoe, used to the byplay of the long married couple and carried it over to the window himself.

“Ah, thank you Master Geralt. Got work for my jackass of a husband?” Metha smiled, accepting the shoe back and placing it next to the match she was working on. “Your brother Eskel passed by last week, and had Horren reshoe that big stallion of his. Haven’t seen Lambert, but he usually comes by after you doesn’t he?”

“Most of the time.” He admired the shoes she was working on, pretty beaded things that were colored like fall leaves. “Harvest dance is tonight?”

“Yes, Letta has her eye on the baker’s boy, and I promised to make her something to catch his back.” Metha smiled, “She and Kelsa made the prettiest dress.” She got up and moved around her station as Geralt heard Horren start to swear and the hiss of the bellows. She returned holding a gorgeous dress, colored like the fall sky on top and shading to the golden red of autumn leaves at the bottom. 

Metha smiled broadly, “Her Journeyman’s for the Dyer’s and Kelsa’s for the Tailor’s. Hard to believe they’re 16 now.”

Geralt nodded, he remembered Metha hugely pregnant with the twin girls, then the next year, the squalling infants, then toddlers, then teens who had no fear of the witchers they saw regularly. Kelsa even forced him to sit and “learn” to sew when she was 10, proud of her skills. Geralt had actually laughed out loud and let the child guide him through a sewing lesson. 

“We’ll be staying overnight. If Kelsa is willing, we have some clothing to be repaired. If she doesn’t have time, that’s fine.” He usually arrived well before, or after the main Harvest Day and the accompanying dance. 

“I”ll ask her. You’ll be at Mehlen’s place?” She nodded towards the biggest inn in the town. 

He nodded and whistled for Roach, who had predictably wandered away and was being fed apple slices by several small children. The mare gave him a dirty look but came at his call and headbutted him. “Oh hush, you’ll get your apples at the stables.” The mare huffed but settled.

He looked for Jaskier, spotting him over by the Leatherworker’s stall and worked his way towards the bard. Normally, he’d never leave his swords, particularly both of them, with a smith, but Runsford was as trustworthy as any town could get to Witchers. If there was an issue that needed his sword, he’d have heard about it several times over by now.

“Jaskier, I’m going to get a room at the inn..” Geralt nodded at the big building that sat on the edge of the square and Jaskier nodded absently as he ran his fingers over straps, clearly looking for a new lute case carrier.

Geralt didn’t wait for an answer and took Roach to the stables attached to the inn, where the waiting stable boy took the mare, apple already in hand, to the stalls as he pulled the saddlebags off and carried them inside.

Old Mehlen remembered him this time, greeting him by name from where he was sitting by the fireplace with a mug of weak ale and bread and cheese. His grandson, also named Mehlen, waved genially from where he was stoking up the fireplace. “Master Geralt! Thought you’d be by soon, got your room all set aside for you.”

Geralt nodded, “My thanks, Mehlen.” He pulled out a few coins and laid them on the bar, then headed up the stairs to the room at the top of the inn. He didn’t mind the climb, it meant no neighbors on either side, and just the linen storage below. 

He settled the bags and his armor, noting the bed was still a decent size, he could share with Jaskier without issue. Again. He twitched in his breeches and firmly told himself to get a handle on himself then went downstairs again, back into the fray of the already bustling trade square. The bard, pretty as he was, hadn’t asked, or shown any signs of wanting to bed him. 

Geralt didn’t blame him, it was one thing to befriend a Witcher, it was completely different to partner up. He shook his head and searched for the bright colored dot that was Jaskier.

He found Jaskier again, this time haggling firmly but politely over some wool cloaks. The wool merchant finally caved and Jaskier grinned, handing over coins in exchange for a pair of cloaks, one red, one blue.

“Geralt! This is such an amazing place, I’ve never seen a trade square like this outside of Oxenfurt or Novigrad.”

“That’s because this is the meeting point of Temeria, Aedirn, and Kaedween, and Redania is less than two days' ride. Everyone comes here to trade.” He nodded at the wool merchant who nodded back and followed the bard as he continued shopping. They stopped for breakfast at the baker’s, just for breakfast, not so Geralt could size up the baker’s boy, even though he’d known the lad for years. Definitely just for breakfast. 

Noon rolled around and the center of the square was cleared out for the huge cooking pits to be unearthed from under the wooden slabs and the cooks began prepping for the Feast. By mid afternoon, most of the sellers had closed up, clearing the rest of the square as everyone hauled out tables and benches, plates and pottery. 

The musicians and Jaskier spent several hours talking shops and trading songs, but for once, Jaskier showed no signs of wanting to perform. “You’re liked here. I don’t need to sing to keep some stuck up alderman from cheating you again, and sometimes, it's just nice to listen.”

The smell of roasting meat was filling the square as a whole steer was being roasted, split between two pits, along with several young pigs. Baskets of vegetables waited to be tossed onto grills to roast and the bakers were running headlong all over to get the bread ready. 

As the sun began to set, Jaskier came up, a band of woven maple leaves forming a neat little crown on his head. Geralt had seen him be practically mobbed by a group of little girls who wrestled it, gently, onto his head before running off to catch another unsuspecting person.

“I heard they have a corn maze here. I’ve seen some hedge mazes but the kids say it's a fun walk.” Jaskier shifted his weight and his scent shifted with it. “Would you like to go in?”

Geralt hesitated, he knew the maze’s story here, it was one of the ways that those wishing to court would find out if the other was interested. He’d traveled with the bard for half a decade now, with no sign the bard wanted him as much as he wanted Jaskier. He took a deep breath and got a nose full of the smell of hope and longing, on top of the bard’s usual scent of summer and buttercups. 

“I..Sure. If you’d like.” He said, having to swallow around a suddenly tight throat.

Jaskier grinned widely. “I’d very much like.” Jaskier grabbed his hand and tugged, pulling him towards the huge corn maze at the back of the town. Geralt let him, he’d follow Jaskier anywhere..

They slipped into one of the multiple entrances of the maze, Geralt knew the trick to get out, all the adults did, hand on the left “wall” and just keep going, but he let Jaskier pull them deeper and deeper into the maze. Eventually they turned down a dead end and Jaskier stopped, inspecting the bench set at the end of it. 

He sat, tugging Geralt down next to him. “It’s really pretty here...and quiet.”

Geralt smiled, “It is...no one else is in the maze, they usually wait for dark.”

“I didn’t want to.” Jaskier flushed. “I...I asked you in here...because…” Jaskier bit his lip, looking away.

Geralt caught his chin, turning the bard back to him, a soft smile on his face. “I know.” Then he kissed his bard, HIS bard.

Jaskier let out a soft squeak then melted into him, moaning as Geralt’s tongue swept the seam of his lips and beyond when Jaskier opened his mouth to the touch. Geralt couldn’t help but to bury his hand into the bard’s hair, pulling him close, practically into his lap. 

Eventually they broke apart, Geralt having hauled Jaskier onto his lap and the bard grinned down at him. “Hello.”

“Hello yourself.” Geralt ran his hand over the bard’s hip and raised an eyebrow at the suspiciously bottle shaped object in the pocket of the bard’s breeches.

“What? I was hoping you’d say yes to coming in here.” Jaskier grinned, dropping a kiss on Geralt’s nose. “Unless you’d rather not.”

Geralt knew the secrets of the maze, and knew exactly what the bard had been looking for on the bench. It was a marker that there was a hideaway behind it. He stood up, holding Jaskier around his hips with one hand, and pulled an ear of corn with the other, placing it into the little hole on the end of the bench. A warning that this hideaway was occupied.

Then he stepped backwards, through the corn and into the tiny clearing. A blanket, smelling of nothing more than soap, lay on the ground, cushioned by corn leaves and a basket with other blankets, along with an empty one lying nearby. It was polite to clean up after yourself. 

Many of the town’s couples, and aspiring couples used these hideaways, using their own fertility to ensure a fruitful harvest next season. Geralt was sterile, but he’d make sure the bard came at least twice, one offering for each of them. 

Geralt knelt, laying the bard gently onto his back and diving back in for a kiss. Jaskier gave as good as he got, wrapping his legs around the Witcher and holding on, pulling him close. Geralt couldn’t help rolling his hips, he’d wanted the bard for years, ever since he realized the man wasn’t going to leave because he was a Witcher, or a grumpy man in general. He’d let himself care, and he was very glad he had.

Jaskier broke away from the kiss, tugging at Geralt’s shirt. “Off, get this off, I want all of you.” 

Geralt grinned and pulled away, standing to kick off his boots, even as Jaskier whined at the loss, though it changed to a moan as Geralt stripped off the shirt and shoved his pants down, freeing his erection, which was already bobbing, a bead of precome at the tip.

Geralt jerked in surprise as Jaskier lunged at him, mouth first, sealing that clever mouth around his cock and grabbing at his hips. Jaskier didn’t hesitate, just set a slow easy move that let the bard use his silver tongue. Jaskier licked and sucked, like Geralt was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Finally, Geralt had to pull him away, ignoring the man’s moan as he finished removing his breeches, before pushing the bard back onto the blanket. “How much do you care about this set of silks?” He asked, holding the bard’s hips and tugging at the doublet with his teeth.

“Not enough to stop you from ripping them off.” Jaskier replied, trying to roll his hips up, in spite of Geralt’s grip. 

Geralt grinned, showing off his teeth and started to untie the doublet, using those exact sharp teeth. Jaskier moaned, trying to thrash beneath him but Geralt held him still, shoving the doublet aside with his nose and licking at the bit of chest that peeked through the chemise. Jaskier groaned as Geralt took a deep breath, Jaskier smelled like summer, buttercups, honey and fresh warm bread, and now that scent was being overlaid with lust, and the honey and bread scent got stronger, and Geralt realized the scent was love. His bard loved him, and had for a long time. 

Internally, Geralt smacked himself for being so dense, but he’d just have to make it up to his lovely bard, who was panting beneath him. 

“Geralt, if you don’t get me naked in the next minute, I will not be held responsible for what I do to you.” Jaskier threatened, about as dangerously as a puppy with no teeth. 

Geralt smirked and swiftly, and deftly, stripped the bard, faster than Jaskier could respond, the clothes tossed aside carelessly. Geralt was quick to palm the little bottle from Jaskier’s pocket before tossing the trouser’s to join the others.

Below him, Jaskier was a little dazed at the speed at which he had been stripped down. Then the bard blinked and decided he didn’t care as Geralt lay down on top of him, chest to chest, groin to groin, legs tangled and kissed him deeper than he’d ever been kissed.

Geralt lost track of time, kissing Jaskier, rocking gently against him and swallowing the bard’s soft moans. He pulled away, dodging as Jaskier tried to follow and sat up, holding up the vial of oil. “How far do you want to go, lark?”

Jaskier grinned and spread his legs, tilting his hips up. “I did bring that oil for a reason, darling.”

Geralt growled and Jaskier laughed delightedly as the Witcher gripped his legs, pushing them back and up, then lowered his head and drew the bard’s hard cock into his mouth. Jaskier shouted, glad that they were far enough away from the town no one could hear them, not that he cared much either way. Geralt grinned and bobbed his head, releasing one leg to rest on his shoulder as he popped the top of the vial and with only a little fumbling, got his fingers oiled. 

Jaskier was moaning at the feeling of the Witcher’s warm mouth, legs trembling when he felt the brush of oil-slick fingers at his hole. He gasped then moaned as he came from that brush alone, spilling into Geralt’s mouth. The Witcher pulled away and swallowed it down, delighting in the taste. A little bitter perhaps, but it was pure Jaskier, and that’s what mattered.

Geralt licked his lips and brushed his fingers over the bard’s hole again. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Geralt...GET IN ME!” Jaskier half shouted, beyond caring if anyone heard them. 

Geralt chuckled, “Be as loud as you want, lark, The whole point of this maze is for coupling. It will be noisy tonight.” He circled one oiled finger around the hole then slipped in, drinking in Jaskier’s moan. “Maybe, if you’re up to it, we can come out again once it’s dark, and I can make you really scream.”  
Jaskier’s eyes rolled back into his head as Geralt added another finger, beginning to stretch and massage the muscled ring. He focused, relaxing as much as he could. “Give me another.” He moaned, rocking his hips into Geralt’s movements, trying to fuck himself on those broad fingers.

Geralt complied, adding a third, then eyed his own hard, dripping cock and eased his pinky finger in as well, to the surprised pleasure of his bard.

“Geralt! Fuck, get in me, now.” Jaskier pleaded, cock hard again. “I want you.”

“Alright, easy.” Geralt pulled back to spread a generous amount of oil on his cock, barely having done so before Jaskier bolted upright, pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips.

“I said get in me.” Jaskier growled, before gripping Geralt’s cock and starting to lower himself onto it. The bard keened, high and loud as the head of Geralt’s cock sunk into him, Jaskier’s own body weight pulling him farther down as he moaned. Geralt gripped his hips, helping him slow his descent. 

Jaskier babbled. “Fuck..big...gods, you’re huge...feel so good.” He sank further, guided by Geralt’s hands until he was seated properly in the curve of Geralt’s hips. Jaskier was shaking, practically overwhelmed with pleasure at the sheer size of the Witcher’s cock. “Ger..alt..Fuck me. Please...fuck me.” 

Geralt smiled at him, lifted the bard up a bit and began thrusting slowly up into him, Jaskier was limp as a rag doll. Slowly, the shaking stopped as Jaskier got a hold of himself and began to move himself, rising and falling on Geralt’s cock. With as much walking as the bard did, his legs were strong, powerful and robust, but the pure pleasure of being fucked by the Witcher was reducing him to only small bounces.

Jaskier groaned in frustration, wanting more, wanting deeper, then gasped and clung to Geralt as the Witcher sat up, then knelt and put him down on the blanket again, practically in the same spot he’d first been. “I can see you’re frustrated, lark, let me--” Geralt thrust hard, drawing a long moan from Jaskier. “--take care of you.”

Geralt set a fast rhythm, now that Jaskier was not as tight around him. He bent down, nipping at the bard’s throat and sucking a few marks along it and the collarbone. He wanted to mark his lover, let everyone know Jaskier was HIS.

Jaskier clawed at Geralt’s back, legs hitched high around the Witcher’s hips and moaned and gasped with each hard, heavy thrust. “Gods..Geralt...make me...I want to come..please..”

Geralt smirked, tempted to make the bard come on just his cock, but tucked that idea away for a later date. He wrapped his slightly slick hand around Jaskier’s throbbing cock, giving it a few tugs as the bard screamed, loud and long as he came, splattering white all the way up from his stomach to his chin.  
Geralt growled, bending his head and sinking his teeth into the bard’s shoulder, just enough to leave an imprint but not draw blood or scar. They’d have to discuss that later. The ripples of the bard’s pleasure rolled through him, around him and he thrust in one more time and came, rocking deep into Jaskier.

He pulled his head away from Jaskier’s shoulder, looking at the bard, breathing the same air as they both panted for breath. Jaskier smiled softly, brushing sweat soaked hair aside and tugging the Witcher down into a kiss. “So, Sir Witcher, just how many times can you go in a night?” 

Geralt just grinned. “Let’s find out.”


End file.
